Path of Freedom (18 page)

Bruce walked home from an afternoon of hunting, carrying a wild turkey by the feet. At least his parents would eat well tonight. A cloud drifted in front of the afternoon sun, casting the field into a shadow and leaving the air cooler than before.

His brother rode toward him on horseback. The fast and steady pace indicated he had good news.

“What is it?” Bruce called as Silas drew to a stop.

“I just left Greensboro. Guess who I ran into?” Silas leaned down with a grin meant to taunt him.

“Must thee leave me in suspense?” Bruce asked, determined to keep his annoyance at bay.

“I ran into the Saferight family. They were returning from the train station. Both Flora and Irene were with them.” Silas raised a dark eyebrow. “Flora inquired about thee—specifically.”

Bruce dropped his gaze to the ground lest his brother see his pain. “And what did she wish to know?”

“She asked if thee had read her letter. I told her that thee hadn't mentioned it.” His horse pranced in impatience, and Silas pulled back on the reins to calm him. “Her parents seemed a bit curious about it.”

Confusion raced through his mind, bidding his heart to hope for that which he had not permitted himself to hope since he'd arrived home. Had he made a mistake by not reading Flora's letter? Could it have been something different from what he'd assumed?

“Bruce?” Silas leaned down. “Thee is acting most peculiar. What of this letter? Does thee have it?”

“Indeed.” Bruce held the turkey out to his brother. “Please…take this home to Mother since thee is on horseback.” He pulled out a sealed letter from the inside of his jacket pocket. “It seems I have a letter to read.”

“Goodness man, has thee been carrying around that letter unopened all this time?” Silas shook his head in disbelief. “Thee has much more discipline than I could ever possess. Curiosity would have already done me in.”

“I've no doubt of it.” Bruce grinned. “Now, if thee will excuse me, I've a letter to read.” Bruce turned and hurried toward a nearby oak tree. He lowered himself against the sturdy trunk and broke the seal on Flora's letter.

Dear Bruce,

I want to thank thee for being so patient and understanding in giving me time to properly consider thy proposal. I've always admired thee and have spent most of my life trying to prove myself to thee. No matter how hard I tried, I thought thee disliked me. Because of this, when thee proposed, I feared my feelings were somehow misguided. I wanted time to seek God's will, but tonight I can't rest. I need thee to know how I feel so I'm writing thee this letter since thee will be leaving in the morning.

This mission has been such a blessing and so different than I expected. In many ways, it seems unreal. I wonder if our common goals in the abolitionist movement and our dependence on each other to survive masked our true feelings for each other. I pray the truth will be revealed in time, especially once we return home and things are back to normal. Part of me fears thee will go back to thy old habits.

In addition to seeking God's will and spending time with my cousins, I stayed behind to refuse Clint Robert's offer of courtship. He is a decent man, but he's not meant for me. I don't feel for him what I feel for thee. After much soul-searching and prayer tonight, I'm convinced that I love thee.

When we both return to Greensboro, and if we still feel as deeply for each other as we did on the mission, I would be honored to accept thy proposal. If thee returns home and thy feelings have changed, say nothing, and I will know. All will be forgotten and forgiven.

Sincerely,

Flora

Bruce reread the letter several times, making sure he wasn't mistaken in her meaning. Finally, he looked up into the heavens and said, “God, I thank thee for this. Please forgive me for my lack of faith. I should have opened this letter and read it much sooner.”

He folded the letter, slid it back into his jacket pocket, and jumped to his feet. He ran home, wishing he'd persuaded Silas to leave his horse with him. Arriving at the stables out of breath, Bruce bent over with his hands on his knees. Once recovered, he saddled his horse and rode west toward the Saferight farm.

By the time he arrived, Will Saferight was unhitching the horse from the wagon. He paused upon noticing Bruce riding up at such a fast pace. With a pat to his horse's neck, he shook his head in disbelief and flashed a knowing grin. “I suppose thee has read the letter that Flora mentioned to thy brother?”

“Yes.” Bruce dismounted and took his horse by the reins. The poor beast breathed heavily and needed some water.

“I cannot pretend to know what that independent girl of ours has done now, but I only hope all is well.” He held out his hand. “I'll see to thy horse if thee would like to go on inside and speak to her.”

“I thank thee, Friend Will.” Bruce handed over his horse, relieved that he would be spared the time it would take to tend to the animal. Bruce hurried toward the house and bounded up the porch steps, taking them two at a time. He knocked on the door with more enthusiasm than was appropriate. Friend Sarah opened the door, her gray eyes wide with fright.

“Goodness, is something wrong?” She touched her hand to her chest. “It sounded like a bull had come charging through the door.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare thee. Friend Will said he would see to my horse so I could have a moment to talk to Flora. May I see her?” Bruce pulled off his hat, determined to be as humble as possible.

“If thee has already spoken to Will, then I suppose it's all right.” She opened the door wider. “Would thee like to come in?”

“I'll just wait out here on the porch. I don't want to inconvenience thy family any further.”

“It's never an inconvenience to welcome our friends into our home.” Flora's mother gestured for him to enter, but he shook his head.

“I was hoping to speak to Flora in private.”

“I see.” She paused, gazing up at him in bewilderment. He could see the unspoken questions in her eyes, but was thankful that she refrained from voicing them. “I'll get her for thee.”

A moment later, Flora stepped out onto the porch, looking as beautiful as ever in a navy shawl and matching bonnet. The only difference was the faint circles beneath her eyes. He stopped pacing, trying to ease the nervous tension that had been building inside him ever since he'd read her letter. Perhaps it was best he hadn't read it before now, for he wasn't sure he could have endured the suspense.

“Shall we sit on the swing?” Flora held out her hand, but he didn't see a swing. No matter, he nodded his consent. She led him around the corner of the house, where a long bench swing hung from the ceiling. He'd never known of its existence.

Without a word, Flora sat and waited for him to do the same. He obliged, dropping his feet to the porch floor and pushing them backward. They swayed front to back.

“I read thy letter,” Bruce said. “And my feelings have not changed.”

She took a deep breath, but kept her gaze focused in front of her. “I'm relieved to hear it. I was hoping I would see thee at the train depot. When thee wasn't there, I wasn't certain what I should think.”

“Only this,” he took her hand in his and lifted it, pressing his warm lips to her knuckles. “I love thee, Flora Saferight. Please forgive me for all my childish transgressions and marry me.”

“I love thee, too. I've prayed about this and nothing would satisfy my heart more than to be Mrs. Bruce Millikan for the rest of my life.”

Bruce twisted sideways and gripped the back of the swing for support. With his other hand, he tilted her chin toward him and kissed her as they swayed back and forth. Flora's lips were warm as she returned his kiss with unexpected fervor. Her cool hand reached up, cupped his jaw, and caressed his sideburn. All too soon she pulled away, leaving him in a heady state.

“Bruce Millikan, I've waited my whole life for thee to come to thy senses.”

“I'm only sorry it took me so long.” He brushed his lips against hers, unable to deny himself. “May we have a short engagement? It isn't as if we need to get to know each other.”

“We shall have a proper engagement.” She poked him in the chest. “I need to make sure thee won't turn back into the old Bruce.”

“That lad grew up and disappeared, I assure thee.” Bruce leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose.

“I intend to make sure that thee has.” Flora kicked her feet against the porch floor and sent them both sailing high into the air. “I want to go on more mission trips with thee, and I want to carry on my mother's tradition. For every mission we go on, I plan to make a map quilt for others on their path of freedom.”

Bruce laughed, knowing his life with Flora would not only be complete, but a free and satisfying adventure.

Discussion Questions

  1. The Quakers in
Path of Freedom
believe in plainness. How does this affect their character? What are the advantages of living a plain life and what are the disadvantages?

  2. While Quakers don't believe in violence, Bruce says he would protect Flora, even if it means shooting someone to wound them enough to stop them, but not to kill them. Does this go against Bruce's faith? Is this a human flaw in his character?

  3. How does the Midnight Star quilt affect the mission? Do you believe a quilt could be used in something so important? What other ways could quilts be used for important purposes, either in the past or in the present day?

  4. Marta showed exceptional faith and moral character at such an early age. Why do you suppose this is?

  5. The fact that Mrs. Saferight lost three children in infancy has scared Irene away from childbearing, but has caused Flora to want to be a midwife. How can two people from the same family react so differently to the same events?

  6. How can Flora trust Bruce with her life but struggle to trust him in matters of the heart? How does her faith in God help her overcome this flaw?

  7. When Marta's baby dies, Flora blames herself. How does this event affect her faith and confidence? What helps her keep going?

  8. At what point does Flora begin to see God at work through this mission? When does she begin to rely on God more and on herself less?

  9. Bruce has a lot of guilt to overcome. What would have been his best approach to convince Flora of his sincerity? How does his faith play a role?

10. What other scary or difficult circumstances would they have faced traveling by night?

11. What did you learn about Quakers that surprised you the most?

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We hope you enjoyed
Path of Freedom
and that you will continue to read the Quilts of Love series of books from Abingdon Press. Here's an excerpt from the next book in the series, Loree Lough's
For Love of Eli.

Loree Lough

Learn to do good. Seek justice: help the oppressed; defend the orphan; plead for the widow.
                                  (Isaiah 1:17 CEB)

1

Mother's Day Weekend at the Misty Wolf Inn Blacksburg, Virginia

T
aylor stood at the bottom of the stairs and held her breath. It only
seems
like a hundred steps, she told herself.

As she planted her foot on the first step, Eli whispered “You really goin’ up there this time?”

His hand, warm and small, fit perfectly into hers. “I'm seriously considering it,” she said, nodding.

The echo of his gasp floated up and disappeared around the first bend of the long, spiral staircase. “Can I come with you?”

She followed the line of his gaze to the half-door leading into the turret. It had been a source of fascination for him from the moment he'd moved into The Misty Wolf Inn, nearly a year ago.

“Please, Taylor?
Please?”

Oh, how she loved the boy who reminded her so much of her brother! Peering into his trusting green eyes, Taylor wondered which excuse would work this time:
It's dirty and dusty up there. There are about a hundred ways you could hurt yourself. That big, bare lightbulb has probably burned out by now.

But Eli beat her to the punch.

“If you let me come with you,” he said, sandwiching her hand between both of his, “I promise to be careful and not touch anything without asking first.
Promise.”

He'd been with her slightly more than a year now, and she could probably count on one hand the times she'd told him no. “Well, OK,” she said, pointing at his bare toes, “but only if you put on your sneakers.”

He did a little jig, then fist-pumped the air. “You're the best, best,
best
aunt a boy ever had!” He ran toward his room, stopping at the halfway point. “You won't go up without me, right?”

“I'll wait right here.
Promise.”
If she didn't know better, Taylor would have said Eli's smile had inspired the “face lit up like a Christmas tree” adage. Grinning to herself, she sat on the bottom step and said a silent prayer.
Please don't let me blubber like a baby—not in front of sweet Eli.
He'd lost as many loved ones as she had, and certainly didn't need to see her fall apart. Besides, if she allowed self-pity to distract her, even for a second, he could pick up a splinter, or trip on a loose board, or topple a stack of boxes. How would she explain
that
to his grumpy uncle?

The familiar
sproing
of a doorstop broke into her thoughts, followed by thuds and thumps that inspired a grin. She could almost picture Eli tossing shoes and boots over his shoulders as he searched for his favorite tennies. But so what if he made a mess in his own room? The last guest had checked out yesterday evening, and she didn't expect the next until Monday. Helping him re-tidy his closet was as good an excuse as any to give him her full, undivided attention.

He ran toward her, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the hardwood as he came to a quick stop. “See?” he said, showing her one foot, then the other. “Shoes!”

“Yep,” she said, laughing, “shoes.” Not the bright red high-tops she'd bought as his reward for mastering the art of tying his own shoes, but his old Velcro-closure sneakers. That he'd chosen to save time by wearing them told Taylor just how excited he was about exploring the turret's attic space.

“Well,” he said, snapping on the light switch, “are you ready?”

Ready as I'll ever be
, she thought as he darted up the stairs. She'd been putting this off far too long. It was long past time to face her past—the good memories, and the sad ones, too.

When she caught up with Eli, she found him grunting and grimacing as he wrapped both hands around the cut-glass doorknob. “It's…it's stuck.” And as he rubbed his palms together, both brows disappeared into his blond bangs. “Or maybe it's locked.”

Taylor hadn't been much older than Eli when her grandfather helped her hang the old skeleton key from the hook he'd hidden along the door jamb. She reached for it, then scooped Eli up into her arms instead. “Quick, grab the key,” she grunted. “You're heavier than you look!”

It took a second or two for him to wiggle the key free, and when he did, Eli shouted, “Got it!”

Taylor gave him a little squeeze before turning him loose.

Eli held it up to the light. “Never saw anything like
this
before.” One eye narrowed suspiciously, he looked up at Taylor. “You sure it's a key?”

Down on one knee, she showed him how to insert it into the keyhole. “I'm sure.”

After a moment of wiggling and jiggling, the lock went
clunk
, startling Eli. “Whoa!” he said, giggling as he handed Taylor the key. “Bet Tootie heard that all the way over at her place!”

He grabbed the doorknob again, but this time his hand jerked back so quickly that she couldn't help but wonder if a chip in the glass had scratched him. Taylor was about to inspect his fingers when Eli said, “Is it okay if I open it, or do you want to?”

So, he'd been sincere about his promise not to touch anything without permission…. Smiling, she said, “No,
you
do it.”

The old brass hinges squealed as the door swung open into the hallway. “It's kinda like the door on the Keebler elves' hollow tree, isn't it?”

“You know, you're absolutely right!”

Hands on his knees and shaking his head, he stooped and peered into the darkness. “No way we'll both fit through at the same time.”

Translation:
“I'm scared to go
in
first, but I want to
be
first to see what's on the other side of this strange little door.”

“I have an idea,” she said, taking his hand. “I'll go in just far enough to turn on the light, and that way, we'll both see what's in there at the same time.”

“Good idea!”

Side by side, they ducked through the opening. Their entry stirred a thousand dust motes that danced like microscopic ballerinas on the beam of sunlight that poured in through the front-facing window.

“Wow,” Eli said, straightening. “Wow.”

She knew exactly how he felt. As a girl, she'd spent hundreds of hours here, spinning dreams when the sun was up, wishing on the stars when moonlight painted everything—especially that gigantic old steamer trunk—a strange and eerie shade of silver.

He turned in a slow circle. “Just
look
at all this stuff!” Then he noticed the rugged wood steps that led higher still in the turret, and pointed. “What's up there?”

“Oh, just more stuff.” Taylor smiled, remembering how after Nonna's stroke left her unable to sew, Grampa stacked boxes of material and spools of thread as high as his arms would allow.
“Lots
more stuff.”

“Man-o-man-o-man. It'll take days to see it all!”

Yes, it probably would—if she had any desire to rouse gloomy memories.…

Eli flicked a wooden whirligig, and, while giggling at its comical dance, blew the dust from a red metal fire truck. “Whoa. Co-o-ol,” he said, picking it up. “Whose was it?”

“Careful, now,” she warned. “There are lots of sharp edges on toys that were manufactured way back when.” She held out her hand so that he could see the bright white scar in the web between her thumb and forefinger. “I got this playing with an old toy car that belonged to Grampa Hank's dad.”

Nodding, he said, “I'll be careful.” He touched the tarnished key on the side of the fire truck. “What's this thing do?”

“It makes the siren work. At least, it used to. It's an antique, and nobody has played with it in years.”

He gave the key two quick cranks and grinned when the toy emitted a tinny, high-pitched wail. Down on his hands and knees, he rolled the truck back and forth. “Vroom-vroom!” he said, oblivious to the tracks its tires left in the dust.

Taylor knelt, too—in front of the cedar hope chest that had lured her up here in the first place. A wedding gift from Taylor's maternal great-great-grandparents to their only daughter, it had been handed down through the generations until, on Taylor's sixteenth birthday, it became hers. For years, it had stood at the foot of her bed, pestering her to look inside. Two days after hiring Isaac, she silenced the nagging by asking him to carry it to the turret.

And it had been here ever since. Would she have the courage today?

Eli put the truck back where he'd found it and went to the window. “Gosh,” he said, using the heel of his hand to rub dust from the bubbly glass, “you can see all the way to the creek from up here.”

“On a clear day,” she said, tracing a burl in the trunk's rounded lid, “you can see even farther than that.”

“Bet Uncle Reece would love this place. Wonder what he'd say if he came up here and saw all this.…”

Taylor harrumphed. No doubt he'd say something like,
“The boy should be outside, playing in the fresh air, instead of inhaling all this grit and grime. There are probably millions of dust mites up here, along with a hundred ways he could hurt himself!”

With most people, Taylor gave people the benefit of the doubt. Why not Reece?

Maybe, she thought, because he acts more like a grumpy old codger than the thirty-something man he is.

But that wasn't fair, and she knew it. Eli was
Reece's
only living relative, too; it couldn't have been easy, finding out the way he did, that his sister hadn't named him Eli's guardian.

She remembered that day in the lawyer's office, when Reece's expression went from stunned to angry to anguished as the attorney read the paragraph in Margo's will that gave Taylor total control of the boy. The news had shocked and puzzled her, too. For one thing, she'd only known Margo since shortly before her marriage to Eliot. For another, Reece had changed his entire life to help out after Eliot was killed in Afghanistan.

Eli's excited voice pulled Taylor's attention back to the here and now. “Oh, wow,” he said from his perch on the window ledge, “I can see our horses! There's Millie. And Alvin and Bert. And Elsie, too!” With each one he pointed out, Eli left a tiny fingerprint on the dusty glass. “And a whole bunch of deer. Taylor! Come see! There must be fifty of ‘em!”

She loved how he called everything at the Misty Wolf “ours,” from the big house, itself, to the land surrounding it. Taylor went to him, and, hugging him from behind, said, “That
is
a big herd, isn't it! And you're right—we
can
see the horses from up here.” It still amazed her that, almost from his first day here, he'd started referring to the Misty Wolf Inn as
home.
Even more astounding was how quickly he'd accepted the fact that his dad had been killed by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan, and a car crash had taken his mom.
Oh, to have the pure, unquestioning faith of a child
, she thought, thanking God for the green-eyed blessing who stood in the circle of her arms.

“Can we go riding later?”

“Maybe…if there's time. It's Friday, don't forget.”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. An ‘uncle Reece’ Friday.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Uncle Reece Fridays—her least favorite nights of the month.

“Can I call him, see if he can come get me a little early, and maybe go riding
with
us?”

“I don't see why not. As my grandpa used to say, ‘It never hurts to ask.’”

One of two things would happen when they got downstairs: Eli would get busy doing little boy things and forget to make the call, or he'd get his uncle on the phone only to find out that Reece still had patients to see and wouldn't be able to leave the office early.

Turning to face her, Eli looked up into Taylor's face. “So what's in the ugly ol’ trunk over there?” he asked, using his thumb as a pointer.

Taylor kissed the top of his head. “You know, I honestly have no idea.”

“Whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“Whoa. No way. It's yours, and you don't know what's in it?”

Smiling, Taylor shrugged. “’Fraid not.”

“But…” His eyes widened as he looked at the trunk. “Why not? Did somebody say you weren't allowed to?”

“No.…”

“That you'd get in trouble for opening it?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Frowning, he said, “Then…then why haven't you opened it?”

How could she explain to this big-hearted boy—who'd lost both parents in less than a year's time—that she didn't have the guts to look at reminders of the people
she'd
lost?

“I don't have a good reason.” In truth, Taylor didn't have
any
reason.

“You know that's just
weird
, don't you?”

“Yes, yes, I suppose it is.”

Eli crossed both arms over his chest. “So, what do you
think
is in there?”

“Oh,” she said on a sigh, “probably just a bunch of old junk. A few things that belonged to my mom and dad, and to my grandparents, and maybe even to
your
dad.”

Eyes narrowed slightly, Eli said, “Oh. I get it. You don't want to see all that stuff ’cause you're afraid it will make you sad…”